I was thinking of this much of today. And another thread, the one by Steve Wagenheim made me decide to post this. So...blame Steve.

A few months ago, I was thinking about my best friend. He was a man twenty years older than I am, and about the kindest man I've ever known. He was a mentor to me when I was selling vacuum cleaners, and we spent a lot of time, visiting each other's stores. (We both owned vacuum cleaner stores. I still do)

I hadn't heard from him for a few years, and mentioned it to my son, who was visiting me.
My son looked up my friend's name on Google and found that he had died a few months ago. I was unaware of the death, and hadn't attended the funeral.

I had a childhood friend, who started visiting me semi regularly, several years ago. I had done something with my life, and he hadn't. In his 50s, he still rented, had an old car, constantly was scrounging for money, and "borrowed" money from me, on every visit. We were friends as kids, but he turned into a small time thief, stealing from me and others I knew. Every time I saw him, it was another scam he wanted money for, some other emergency that needed taken care of. He knew I studied Kung Fu for years, and when we went out for a beer, he would try to pick a fight, so I would come to rescue his worthless self. One night I warned him that if he picked a fight, I'd watch the guy beat him to a pulp, and not interfere. And I meant it. But I'd known him all my life, so I'd always forgive him, for any transgressions. I paid some of his gambling debts, even after I caught him stealing from my cash register.

About 3 years ago, he showed up, and wanted to stay at my home . My wife didn't like him (for good reason), and so I told him No. Of course, he really needed money, so I gave him money for a hotel room, food, and a little to get back on his feet. He spent the next several days, blowing the money on booze and cocaine.....without my knowledge.

He called and told me that it was my fault, because I didn't take him in. I had enough, and told him to never call me again. He didn't. He was about 57 years old at the time.

I decided to Google his name to see if he ever went to prison. or was killed. Yup, he killed himself a few years ago. a few months after I told him to go away.

Now, here's why I brought these two stories up; The first story is about a dear friend, that I truly loved. And the second story is about a man with virtually no redeeming qualities. In fact, the last several years...I didn't even like him. I just felt obligated to be nice to him, because we were friends in school.

My beloved mentor friend? I miss him less than my worthless old friend. In fact, his death doesn't bother me much at all. Sure, a tear was shed when I found out...but that was about it. He led a very full rewarding life. He was loved by many, and had more personal integrity than any other man I've ever met. He was like a father to me.

But to me, his passing was just the natural order of things. I think he was 80, when he passed away.

My other "friend" just made me angry. And it angers me every time I think about it. I don't blame myself, I blame him. And I think about all the people he hurt along the way. His suicide didn't shock me. I imagine at the end, he was just blaming others for his trouble, like always.

Still, it bothers me. I think of it a little every day. Maybe what bothers me the most, is that I know if he called me a week after I hung up on him...he would have told me a joke, and all would have been forgiven...and he'd still be scamming, and leeching off old friends.

Weird.